But As To Her Of Whom I Am Speaking,
We May Say That Every Twist Of Her Body And Every Tone Of Her Voice
Is An Unsuccessful Falsehood.
She looks square at you in the face,
and you rise to give her your seat.
You rise from a deference to
your own old convictions, and from that courtesy which you have
ever paid to a woman's dress, let it be worn with ever such hideous
deformities. She takes the place from which you have moved without
a word or a bow. She twists herself round, banging your shins with
her wires, while her chin is still raised, and her face is still
flattened, and she directs her friend's attention to another seated
man, as though that place were also vacant, and necessarily at her
disposure. Perhaps the man opposite has his own ideas about
chivalry. I have seen such a thing, and have rejoiced to see it.
You will meet these women daily, hourly, everywhere in the streets.
Now and again you will find them in society, making themselves even
more odious there than elsewhere. Who they are, whence they come,
and why they are so unlike that other race of women of which I have
spoken, you will settle for yourself. Do we not all say of our
chance acquaintances, after half an hour's conversation, nay, after
half an hour spent in the same room without conversation, that this
woman is a lady, and that that other woman is not?
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